Project: Vesuvius
by weepingangelofnewnewyork
Summary: The story of how Nicholas Fury lost an eye. Includes the characters Nick Fury, Howard Stark, Hank Pym, Peggy Carter, the Winter Soldier, and a five-year-old Natasha Romanoff. Rated T for mild language.
1. CHAPTER ONE: Mission Briefing

_Thank you to everyone who read/reviewed my Steggy one-shot! Reviews are my life, so I really appreciate them. Please leave a comment telling me what you think of this new story! It's going to end up being fairly long – I'm not exactly sure how long yet though. This is my first attempt at a fic that is something other than a one-shot. This first chapter is mostly technical details, but you'll see some action soon. ;) Hope you enjoy!_

 _DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters except General August Morrison, Lieutenant Petrie, and Agent Ragan Courtenay. Everything else belongs to Marvel._

 _~Xx_

* * *

It was November of 1989, four long decades into the Cold War. Washington, D.C. was crowded, as always, but the war had been hard on the people. The train station lacked its usual busy noise, and the quiet people that hurried through the station were thin and haggard, and their faces lacked friendliness.

Agent Nicholas Fury noted all of this as his sharp, dark eyes scanned his fellow travelers. A dirty looking old man smoking a cigar caught Fury's glance and warned him in no uncertain terms that he should mind his own business.

So it was with relief that, a few minutes later, Fury found himself in a sleek, black car on the way to a military base located in the city. Then, his door was opened and he stepped out to be greeted by a saluting soldier. Agent Fury's espionage work with the CIA was well known in several parts of the world, but especially in America.

"Thank you, Private," Fury said, acknowledging the soldier. "But there really is no need."

"Shall I bring your bags, Agent Fury, sir?"

Fury nodded. "Thank you." He was met inside the large, chilly building by a Lieutenant Petrie. Petrie then escorted Fury personally to General August Morrison's office.

General Morrison rose from his desk as soon as the door opened. "Welcome, Agent Fury. Thank you for coming on such short notice."

Fury shook the man's hand solemnly. "Not a problem, General. In fact, arriving at meetings on short notice is probably in my job description somewhere." General Morrison chuckled at that.

"Shall we get down to business?" They settled into chairs and Morrison handed Fury a thick folder. "We have run into a problem."

Fury opened the folder and frowned when he saw what was written on the first page. General Morrison began to talk him through the documents.

"A couple of days ago, on November 22nd, we were transporting an extremely lethal bomb from the States to an underground base in a confidential area of Vietnam. The weapon is called the Vesuvius. It was designed by Howard Stark of Stark Industries and has the potential to level a city of about 250,000 square miles, which is roughly the size of Texas, if you needed a visual."

Fury stared at the General. "250,000 square miles? The most powerful bomb I've ever heard of could only cover about 2,500. Pardon me, General, but I can't tell if you're joking or not."

"I'm not joking. Unfortunately, as it turns out. We were transporting the Vesuvius across the North Pacific Ocean via cargo ship, but somehow, in was intercepted by the Russians. All of the men and crew aboard the ship lost their lives trying to keep it safe.

"When Stark was designing and building the bomb, he installed several fail safes in case it landed in the wrong hands. Only he knows what and where these are. Unfortunately, the Soviets discovered this and sent a team to abduct Stark from his vacation home in Mexico. They were successful."

Fury snorted. Everyone knew how Stark was with his vacation houses. If the billionaire had been at home in New York, where security was more, well, secure, he'd probably still be making weapons of mass destruction in his basement for fun.

"I'm sure you can see how serious this situation is, Agent Fury," Morrison said, giving him a look. Fury straightened his face out.

"Indeed I can, sir."

"The Soviets are probably trying to torture information out of Stark as we speak. If they are successful, well, I don't need to tell you the cost."

"So, what is my mission, exactly?" Fury asked, flipping through the files.

"We want you to get into the Russians' base, find Stark and get him out if he's in good enough shape, eliminate the possibility of the Soviets using the Vesuvius by bringing it back or eliminating it, and if possible, finding a way for us to get some men inside."

Fury raised an eyebrow. "So, basically, you want me to solve all your problems."

Morrison shrugged in embarrassment. "You won't be doing it alone. We're also sending another spy agent, Agent Ragan Courtenay, so you'll have some help. We realize that you normally work alone, but we decided that, giving the risk of the mission, it would be better if you had a partner on this one."

"Thank you for your thoughtfulness," Fury said sarcastically. The truth was, he hated working in a team. Especially if this "team" consisted of a literal stranger.

"We have you scheduled on a passenger flight to Kalinovka, Kazakhstan, so you won't draw attention in a private jet. From there, you'll take a jeep to Tara in Russia. That's where the base is located. The exact position is listed on the second page of the folder that I gave you."

"Sounds great," said Fury, rising. "Is there anything else I should know?"

"One other thing. We had to send you so quickly because we're pretty sure that the Soviets are planning something big. Some of the most dangerous assassins in the world have come together and congregated on the base that you're heading to. So there is a distinct possibility that you could be attacked on the way before you even reach the base."

"Tell me something I didn't already know," Fury said. "You forget: I'm used to this kind of thing. Been attacked a lot in my day."

"Wonderful. Get your things together – your flight takes off in five hours."

* * *

 _Hope you liked it! Like I said earlier – feel free to leave a review. Your opinions/concrit is really appreciated by this writer._

 _~Xx_


	2. CHAPTER TWO: Nose Dive

_Here's chapter two! Look for a nod to Captain America: The Winder Soldier in the first part, where Fury is on the way to the airport._

 _DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters in this story except Agent Ragan Courtenay, Jung Chan and Aleksandr Moskalev. Everything else belongs to Marvel._

 _~Xx_

* * *

The same black car that Fury had arrived in took him to the airport. He settled back against the leather seat comfortably.

"I could get used to this," he remarked to the chauffeur. His driver grinned. "It has all the bells and whistles, doesn't it?"

"Yes, sir. Four wheel drive, cruise control, there are five separate compartments in which to conceal weapons, it's bulletproof… oh, and it has air conditioning. That's a new feature."

Fury turned on the air and directed it towards himself. He smiled when the first gust of cool air hit him. "There will never be a day that I do not appreciate air conditioning," he said. The chauffeur laughed.

"I have to agree with you, sir."

#

When he arrived at the airport at 10 a.m., he was greeted by Agent Courtenay herself. She was a young, pretty African American woman with bouncy corkscrew curls and a winning smile, but Fury knew that looks could be deceiving. She probably knew hundreds of fun ways to kill him and thousands of boring ones.

"Agent Fury," she said, dimpling, and extended a beautifully smooth hand. "It's an honor to be working with you."

"Thank you, Agent Courtenay," Fury responded, taking her hand. "I'm looking forward to getting this mission over with."

Courtenay laughed. "When they told me you preferred working alone, I didn't realize quite how much."

"It's not you," Fury corrected her hastily. "I'm just not looking forward to rescuing Stark. Again." He wasn't exactly sure why he said it, because it wasn't true. The truth was that he preferred working alone. Agent Courtenay laughed again, but he could tell she didn't believe him.

"Well, think of it as a team building exercise," she said with a little smile, and left it at that. "Come on, let's board before the plane takes off without us."

#

A few hours later, Agents Fury and Courtenay were sitting next to each other on the lane to Kalinkova, pretending to talk casually but texting each other on their state-of-the-art, newly invented mobile flip phones. They were sending each other pictures of the blueprint of the Tara base taken from the folders the government had given them and discussing how to enter the building, when Fury glanced up and saw a solidly built Asian man watching him. As soon as their gazes met, the Asian looked away.

"So, have you ever been to Kalinkova?" Fury asked conversationally.

 _Man across row watching us_ , he typed, and sent the message.

"I haven't, actually," Courtenay replied, and glanced across the aisle. Her thumbs went into action and a moment later, her message appeared on his screen: _Jung Chan. Known Japanese assassin._ "This will be my first time," Courtenay said, and Fury was confused until he remembered that she was talking about Kalinkova. He nodded in a way that he hoped seemed like a pleasant nod, because his thumbs were getting tired of punching the ridiculously tiny buttons on his mobile.

 _Keep an eye on him,_ Fury typed, then said out loud, "I'm going to take a nap. Wake me up after I've slept for at least two hours."

Agent Courtenay said that she would, so Fury rested his head against his seat and closed his eyes. He might as well sleep now because they were only 2 hours into an 18-hour flight and wouldn't land until 4 a.m. the next morning. Frowning, he shifted in his seat. It was already getting uncomfortable. This was going to be an extremely long 18 hours.

#

He dreamed about screaming people falling off cliffs until Courtenay woke him with a hard pinch to his side. Groggily, he tried to sit up before realizing that the entire plane was slanted nose downward and there really were screaming people. Instantly, he was wide awake.

"What's going on?" he shouted at Courtenay.

"Damn it, Fury, you sleep like the proverbial freaking _log_ ," she yelled back.

"I said, what's going on?" Fury shouted back, irritated.

"I don't know! I haven't tried to find out yet because I need to get past _you_ to get out. We seem to be falling though," she added sarcastically, and when Fury glared at her, she gave him one of her signature mischievous grins. The plane lurched and Fury fell into her. Swearing, he unbuckled his seat belt and stumbled into the hallway.

"Calm down, everyone!" he shouted. "There are parachutes underneath your seats. Put them on NOW." The passengers needed no second urging, and soon everyone was frantically strapping on a parachute.

Courtenay fell out of their row right as they hit turbulence. Her head collided with Fury's and she swore colorfully, grabbing at him for support.

"I have to get to the cockpit!" she yelled. "Something could be wrong with the pilot and I know how to fly."

"Go then!" Fury yelled back. "We're losing altitude!" He turned back to help a woman with her parachute and saw Jung Chan, the Japanese assassin, aiming a gun. Reflexively, he threw himself at Courtenay and landed on top of her as a gunshot rang out and took out a window. Panic erupted in the small plane and suddenly, Jung Chan and two other muscular men had surrounded them and started kicking. Fury groaned as the first boot connected with his stomach.

Resisting the urge to curl up in a ball, Fury rolled off of Courtenay and stumbled to his feet on the tilted floor. He had acted so quickly that the enemy in front of him didn't have time to react before Fury knocked him cold with a swift, well-aimed blow. He could feel Agent Courtenay fighting Jung Chan behind him.

"Go!" he yelled at her. "I got this!" She pressed something cold and hard into his hand and he realized that she must have been able to confiscate the gun. Then she slipped off and Fury turned to find Jung Chan breathing down his neck and that Courtenay had accidentally handed him the gun's barrel when he tried pulling the trigger.

So instead, he brought the gun crashing down on the man's temple with all of his might, flipped the gun and shot the remaining mercenary twice. They both crumpled to the floor, one unconscious and one dead.

Fury yelled at the passengers again and dragged the three fallen men out of the main cabin where he quickly tied up Jung Chan and his unconscious friend with straps cut from the dead man's parachute and made it to the cockpit as quickly as he could.

The pilot was lying dead on the floor, his head at an odd angle on his shoulders. Fury saw that his neck was broken. Agent Courtenay was sitting at the controls, slowly easing the plane back into the sky. Questions swarmed Fury's brain. He started with the first one that came to mind.

"Did you find him like this?"

"Shush. Stop talking. Brain thinking," Courtenay interrupted, her mouth set in a grim line as she focused on her task. Finally, she breathed a sigh and relaxed. She quoted some aviator mumbo-jumbo that Fury didn't understand into the headset and then turned to him with a happy smile.

"We did it! High five!" she cheered, and held up a hand. Fury raised an eyebrow, but Courtenay persisted, so he reluctantly slapped it.

"So, what happened?" he asked. Courtenay didn't stop smiling with relief when she replied, "I don't know. Stupid pilot was flying us straight into the ground when I found him. So I killed him. And sorry I shut you up. I haven't had the chance to fly in a couple years, so I was a little rusty."

"I'm just glad we're alive," Fury replied. "Speaking of which," he added, remembering Jung Chan and his gun, "I took out the three musketeers. One is dead, but Jung Chan and the other are unconscious. I figure that Kazakhstan government will want to question them when we touch down."

"Good work, Agent Fury," Courtenay said happily, still smiling.

"Same to you, Agent Courtenay," he replied, surprised but pleased.

Courtenay glanced at him. "Since you just saved my life, I think you could start calling me Ragan." She'd surprised him again.

"In that case, call me Nicholas."

#

In Tara, Russia, things were not going as planned, but they were going wonderfully. A tall, bearded Russian stepped over a dead body and plucked a phone of its hook. He punched in a few numbers and waited.

"Hello? This is Aleksandr Moskalev at Tara Headquarters. We have Ant-Man."

* * *

 _Tell me in the reviews what you think of the new characters and what you think is going to happen! Seriously, reviews are like my brain food. The more I get, the faster and better I write. :D (also, the Winter Soldier reference was the air conditioning part. I always laugh at that part in the movie. :D)_

 _~Xx_


	3. CHAPTER THREE: Ant Attack

_Hey guys! I was going to continue with Nick and Ragan's point of view for chapter 3, but my sisters really wanted to know what happened with Ant-Man, so I used the opportunity to kind of get you up-to-date on what's happening with SHIELD. Here's chapter 3, without further ado._

 _DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters except Aleksandr Moskalenko. Everything else belongs to Marvel._

 _~Xx_

* * *

Director Rick Stoner of S.H.I.E.L.D. was having an off day. He'd woken up with a cold to a load of boring paperwork, run out of his favorite cereal, spilled coffee all over himself _twice_ , and had a mega bomb and an immature billionaire stolen right out from under his stuffy nose. He stormed into the Level 10 meeting, sneezing messily into a handkerchief.

"Gesundheit," said Peggy Carter as he dropped mournfully into his chair and bumped his knee on the table leg.

"Ouch!" he complained, taking a moment of silence to honor the burst blood vessels in his knee as a bruise formed.

"Everything alright, Director?" Hank Pym asked.

Rick Stoner sighed in resignation. "At this point, I think it's safe to say that my day couldn't get any worse."

"Your dog died," Pym announced bluntly.

Stoner shot a glare in Pym's direction. "Grow up, Pym. I don't _have_ a dog."

"Well, look who's on top of it this morning," Hank said sarcastically, smirking. Peggy tried unsuccessfully to stifle a snigger. Rick finally smiled in spite of himself.

"Now that we have that out of the way, there's something we need to discuss."

"Stark," Peggy guessed instantly.

Stoner's eyes bugged. "How did you _know?_ "

"His name is on the top of the document you're holding. What's wrong? I thought he was vacationing in Mexico."

"He was," the director confirmed. "But now he's vacationing at a Soviet military base in Tara, Russia." Quickly, he brought the other Level 10 members up to speed.

"This Soviet military base," Hank spoke up, "Are there any HYDRA members affiliated with it?"

Director Stoner's mouth turned distinctly downward. "Yes," he admitted. "Aleksandr Moskalev. He's Lieutenant General, second in command at the base." He produced a headshot of a dangerous-looking bearded Russian. "There are sure to be others."

"What's your plan, Director?" Peggy questioned. Stoner tossed them identical, bulky folders and gave them a moment to look them over. Peggy frowned at her document. "It says here that the Vesuvius is an uncompleted weapon."

"That's right," Rick agreed. "Stark wasn't quite finished with it yet. It's possible for someone to deactivate it besides himself. He was working out the bugs in Mexico, said something about needing a different atmosphere to work in. But then some of the world's greatest assassins started gathering at the Tara base and we had to ship it off to our underground base in Vietnam to be prepared. The only people who know it's unfinished are the Level 10 agents."

"So, what you're saying," Peggy said slowly, putting the pieces together, "is that we can send someone into deactivate it."

Stoner coughed into his well-used handkerchief before replying. "Yes. Of course, there would have to be certain requirements." His eyes flicked to Hank Pym. "The agent would have to be a Level 10, for example."

Hank Pym's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You want me to put on the suit and go after it," he said, the realization finally dawning on him. Peggy and Rick turned to him.

"Why, Hank!" Stoner exclaimed in fake excitement. "What a marvelous idea! How did you come up with such a brilliant plan?"

"It wasn't that hard," Pym replied nervously, "seeing as the only Level 10 agents are the three of us and Howard."

Stoner opened his mouth again to keep praising Hank's allegedly brilliant idea, when Hank stood suddenly, all previous traces of lightheartedness gone.

"I'm not going to do it."

"But – "

"Forget it, Rick. Hire a Level 9, I don't care. Or put on the suit yourself. I'm not going to." He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Rick and Peggy jumped.

Peggy sighed. "He's not been the same. Not since…" she trailed off, but Rick knew they were both thinking about Janet van Dyne.

"I know," he said out loud, "but this is big, Carter. The Vesuvius… if they accidentally set it off over there, it's not just the HYDRA facility that will be going up in smoke. A lot of innocent lives will be lost. And if they figure out how to get past the fail safes without Stark's help, there might not be any S.H.I.E.L.D. left when they're through."

Peggy twisted a lock of her beautiful greying hair thoughtfully. "I'll speak with him."

#

Peggy knocked softly on the door to the weapons room. "Can I come in?" she called.

"Yeah, whatever," came the glum reply. So she eased the door open and stepped inside, shutting the door behind her once more. The weapons room was huge, but Peggy knew right where to find Pym. Sure enough, he was leaning against the wall, staring into the glass display case that held his Ant-Man suit. She went over and stood next to him.

"I know you don't want to have to wear the suit again, Hank," she began.

"Of course I don't," he interrupted, talking quickly. "The last time – " he stopped suddenly and buried his face in his hands. "I loved her, Peg," he said in a whisper so quiet she almost didn't catch it. "She was beautiful and kind and smart and she loved me back. And when Hope was born… we were so happy. And I know that the suit doesn't have that much to do with all this, but when I wear it, I become a different man. And I don't know if Janet would like that man. When I wear the suit, I can't cope with the loss and it turns me dark, Peggy. And she wouldn't like it. Janet wouldn't like it. And neither would Hope."

If Peggy was surprised at this outpouring of emotions, she tried not to show it. Instead, she rested her hand lightly on Pym's arm.

"But Janet and Hope are why you have to do this, Hank," she said gently. "You and I, with S.H.I.E.L.D., we're a part of something bigger. We can't afford to focus on ourselves any more. There's simply too much on the line and the odds are stacked against us more often than not.

"And we're not just chess pieces on someone else's board. We have to make our own decisions and we have to make sure they count. Our problems don't matter anymore, but our solutions to the problems matter more than anything. We have to make sure we choose the right actions now so that our children and our children's children can live in a country that is free.

"There's a saying that goes, 'we did not inherit the earth from our ancestors; we are borrowing it from our descendants.' And I think that's true. We just have to make sure we keep it in good condition so that future generations have something worth fighting for."

When Peggy finished, Pym turned his head and watched her for a moment without saying anything.

"I hope that helped," Peggy said. "I'll let you think now." And she left the room as softly as she had entered it.

#

"Stoner?" Hank Pym stepped into the conference room wearing his Ant-Man suit with the cybernetic helmet that allowed him to communicate with ants tucked under his arm. "I think I'm ready. Just tell me what the plan is."

Director Stoner glanced at Peggy with lifted eyebrows as if to say, "I don't know what you said to him, but it worked."

#

"All ready, sir?"

Pym took a deep breath. He was having trouble keeping control of his emotions, but Peggy's speech definitely helped. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't wear the suit again after the last time it had gotten him into trouble, yet here he was, in a private S.H.I.E.L.D. jet, getting closer and closer to the Russian base with every second, and he was wearing the suit. But what other options did he have? If he hadn't made his choice, HYDRA could use the Vesuvius to blow up the Triskelion and everything within 250,000 miles, including Hope. He was doing this for her, and for all the other fathers and daughters and mothers and sons, present and future. Someone had to fight back.

Hank sighed and put on the helmet. "Ready."

The pilot opened the door to the sky, and gathering all his courage, Hank jumped. On the way down, he hit the button on his belt and became Ant-Man. Almost immediately, he called out to Ant 035 and the rest of the swarm, and they appeared by his side, flying next to him. Controlling his fall, Pym managed to grab ahold of Ant 035 and swing himself onto her back.

He'd forgotten how exhilarating it was. He'd always imagined that, if there was such a thing as a Pegasus, and you rode it, it would feel like this. Hank whooped with glee as the swarm of ants swooped down towards the guarded base unseen.

"Watch out, suckers!" he yelled at the unsuspecting soldiers. His ear comm buzzed and Stoner's slightly amused voice came through.

"Having fun, Pym?"

"Nope!" Hank replied joyfully. "Not at all!" He flew over the heavily guarded gates and up to the building itself. Coming up behind a soldier, he jumped off of 035 and onto the soldier's shoulder, calling out to all the ants in the surrounding area. With the Bio-Energy Projector that the Ant-Man suit offered, which was also referred to as the Bio-Sting, Pym was able to jump full force into the side of the soldier's head, which twisted sharply with the force. His neck snapped.

Loud shouts rang out as Russian soldiers came running, shooting at their invisible assailant. Pym launched himself off of the falling soldier, aiming for the closest one. Another shot rang out and he tucked himself into a roll mid-air, feeling the huge bullet speeding underneath him before landing hard on the man's arm.

The soldier saw him and yelled, trying to slap him off, but Hank quickly jumped onto his shoulder and punched the man in the throat, letting the Bio-Sting take over again. Then he was on to the next man.

At some point during the fight, Hank remembered to telepathically direct the ants to crawl underneath the soldiers' bulletproof suits and bite them all over. It was hard work, keeping up communications with the ants and focusing on his own work simultaneously. And it was easier to jump from man to man, but sometimes, Pym ended up on the ground and had to run to avoid being stepped on, then finding another soldier to climb up.

Finally, Rick Stoner's voice crackled in his ear. "Diversion successful. The front doors are open to let more soldiers through. You copy?"

"Copy that," Hank replied, summoning 035. He vaulted onto her back and flew through the closing doors over the soldiers' heads, taking a small army of ants with him.

"The Vesuvius is four floors down," Director Stoner told him through the ear comm. "The door's locked, and there are three EOD specialists studying it, and about fifteen armed guards. Aleksandr Moskalev is in there, too. Do you copy?"

"Copy," Hank replied. He located an elevator that was just stopping on the first floor. When the doors opened and another team of soldiers hurried out, Hank flew his own team in. Then, rather than trying to find out how many ants it took to press an elevator button, he led them through a vent into the elevator shaft. They travelled down, down, down, with Hank trying to keep track of each sublevel as they flew deeper and deeper underground.

"I hope this is the negative fourth floor," he said to 035 as he led his army out another vent. They emerged in the hallway outside the locked door with no way to get in without opening it.

"Great," he muttered. "Director, now what do I do?" he asked, touching two fingers to his ear comm.

Stoner, who was watching everything via hacked security cameras, replied, "Someone's coming from the other side with a team of five soldiers. I think it's Aleksandr Moskalev. You'll be able to get in when they open the door."

"Copy that," Hank said grimly. Then, before he knew it, the door had opened and a net was swishing down just above his head.

Startled, he tried to fly 035 out of the way, but the edge of the net hit him. It smashed into his suit and broke the button and he ended up on the floor. With the suit damaged, he instantly returned to normal size. Frantically, he leapt to his feet and sent the ants into Moskalev's eyes, spinning around and taking out one of the soldiers right off the bat with a round kick to the head. Moskalev yelled angrily in Russian and although Pym fought his hardest, he was surrounded and outnumbered five to one with no way to use the suit's capabilities. He also hadn't been on a mission in several years and was out of practice. One of the soldiers brought the handle of his gun down on Hank's helmet and disabled it, breaking his telecommunications with the ants. His arms were secured by two of the soldiers, and he struggled to free himself as Moskalev composed himself and stepped forward. There was an evil glint in his eyes as he tore away Pym's helmet.

"Well, well," he said in a thick Russian accent, "If it isn't the Ant-Man." He nodded to the two soldiers holding Pym and they followed Aleksandr into the elevator. Hank's brain whirred as they descended another level, trying to find a way out. The elevator doors opened and they went through another locked doorway into a cell-lined hallway. Moskalev led them quickly through the halls, with Hank keeping careful track of every turn. They approached a cell and unlocked it.

Hank's eyes bugged when he saw the man in the cell next to the one they were putting him in.

"Stoner," he hissed quietly, "it's Stark."

"Aha!" said Lieutenant General Moskalev triumphantly, and plucked the comm from Hank's ear.

 _Blast it,_ though Hank, furious with himself. The guards tossed him into the waiting cell, locked it, and left, presumably to go throw away the key somewhere. They took his helmet and suit with them.

Hank settled angrily onto the single cot in his cell, and glared at Stark, who was laying on his cot with his eyes closed. He looked pale and bruised, and was extremely thin. Looking at him, Hank was positive he'd been tortured.

"Why did I want to save you again?" Hank mumbled in irritation, still angry about the comm. It was his only link to Stoner and Peggy at the Triskelion, and he had stupidly exposed it.

Without opening his eyes, Howard said, "You wanted to save me because I'm a genius. Care to join me in my relaxing solitude?"

Despite previous speculations that it was impossible, Director Stoner's day had just gotten a lot worse.

* * *

 _I hope you enjoyed chapter 3! Some of the phrasing was a little rough but I hope it wasn't too bad. Also I wasn't sure if the Triskelion was even built yet in 1989, but I looked it up and couldn't find anything so I just went with it. :P Leave a review even if you hate this chapter, and if you do hate it, tell me why so I can fix it! :D Reading reviews is even more fun than writing fanfic. Also, I usually ask my sisters which was their most suspenseful part and which part they thought was funniest, and I'd love to know yours too! Hope your week is awesome!_

 _~Xx_


	4. CHAPTER FOUR: Hostage Situation

_Chapter 4. Enjoy!_

 _Disclaimer: I only own Agent Ragan Courtenay, Jane Courtenay, Mr. and Mrs. Bradshaw, Jung Chan, Floyd Stephens, Ivan Sergey and General August Morrison. Everything else (aka Nicholas Fury :P) belongs to Marvel._

 _~Xx_

* * *

After an hour of restless sleep in the cabin, Fury finally decided that it was useless. It was only four in the afternoon, but the meeting with General Morrison had been at five that morning, so Fury hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. He walked through the hold, past Jung Chan and his partner in crime who were now awake and glaring at him through their gags. Fury continued through to the cockpit.

Ragan Courtenay was sitting silently at the controls, unaware of his presence, until he sat down next to her.

"I love flying," she said softly. "It's so beautiful and peaceful in the clouds."

Fury didn't reply, but he silently agreed with her. A few minutes of silence passed. Fury studied again. From the very first moment he'd met her, she'd been smiling and cheerful, and a smile was almost always present on her pretty face. In fact, she was probably the most upbeat person he'd ever met. But looking at her now, he realized that he barely knew anything about her.

"So, where did Agent Courtenay learn to fly?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light. He wanted to learn more about her, but he didn't want her to feel pressured. His question brought a smile to her lips.

"Arizona," she replied. "I was twelve."

Fury looked quickly at her to see if she was joking. But her eyes had a faraway look in them, like she'd just opened a door to her past that she'd forgotten was closed.

"Twelve?" Fury repeated incredulously. "How did that happen?"

The faraway look was gone, replaced by a hard one. "It's a long story," she replied, as if that ended the conversation. But Fury was not about to be put off so easily.

"Well, then," he said, "it's a good thing we'll be in the air for twelve more hours, else you might not have a chance to tell it."

Courtenay smiled a little. "Alright, Nicholas," she finally agreed. "I'll tell you my story. But forgive me if I skip some parts. The past is not a place I like to dwell in.

"I was born in Southern California. I was the first child to my parents. When I was three years old, my baby sister, Jane, was born, and for a while, it was the best home a child could have had. When I was eight years old, we were having a very dry summer. Water was rationed, and the heat was unbearable.

One night that summer, our neighbors had a birthday party, and one of the candles must have caught something on fire, because the whole house went up in flames before anyone knew what was happening. It spread to our house, and my mother woke up my sister and I and we ran outside and waited while the firemen tried to put out the fire. My father had said he was going to get the dog and join us, but more and more time passed and he didn't come out. My mother got hysterical and ran inside to find him. I never saw either of them again." Ragan paused, struggling to contain her emotions. Hesitantly, Fury placed a hand on her arm and squeezed it gently. She smiled gratefully, then continued.

"Jane and I were put into the first of many foster homes. It was horrible. I couldn't believe some people lived like that, that there could be so many hard feelings in one household.

The foster agency learned that my father had a brother, but they hadn't been in touch because they were never very close. The foster agency tried to keep Jane and me together, but after that first year, when she was six and I was nine, they finally had to separate us. After that, everything was harder because I didn't have anyone to look after. I floated around the system for three years, and without fail, every house that I lived in was horrible.

But then, the foster agency was able to locate my uncle and everything changed. He lived on a farm by himself in Arizona, and he was wonderful. The first time I saw him, I cried because he reminded me of my father. It was then that he taught me how to fly a plane. It was wonderful, and I felt like I'd never been happier in my life."

"What about your sister?" Fury interrupted. "Surely your uncle was legally her guardian, too?"

"He should have been," Ragan confirmed. "But she'd been adopted. There was nothing anyone could do." Angrily, Ragan swiped at a tear. She looked at Fury. "I haven't seen her since I was nine."

Fury looked into her dark, sad eyes and wondered how she could be so happy. She was stronger and braver than he'd thought.

Ragan sighed. "Unfortunately, the story doesn't end there. I wish it did. When I was sixteen, my uncle had a heart failure and died. I went into the system again, and this time, I was adopted by a Mr. and Mrs. Bradshaw. I lived in Illinois with them and their two sons, who were older than me. Mr. Bradshaw had been a captain in the Navy and was very strict. I got used to their way of life. Strict schedules kept my mind off my grief for the most part, and I grew to appreciate them. So when I turned eighteen, I joined the military and was trained in espionage. And here I am," she finished, with a small smile at Fury.

Fury shook his head in wonder.

"What?"

"It's just…" he struggled to find the right words. "You're so… positive. You're always so cheerful. Why?"

Ragan shrugged. "I tried being bitter. It doesn't work. I've found that I enjoy life a lot more when I'm not trying to demand something out of it. This is my life, Nicholas, and I have to say that I'm pretty happy with it."

Fury wanted to keep talking, but she put the plane on autopilot and stood, stretching her legs.

"I think Jung Chan and his crony have been sitting alone long enough. It's time they had a proper interrogation."

#

Fury joined Ragan in the hold, where they approached Jung Chan and his partner. Fury held a gun up to each of their heads while Courtenay removed the gag from Jung Chan's accomplice.

"Alright," she said sternly. "We're going to ask you some questions, and you're going to answer them or we shoot you somewhere that will hurt. Got that?"

The man nodded miserably.

"Good." Ragan took one of the guns from Fury and settled into a chair, carelessly resting the gun on her knee while keeping it aimed at the man. "First of all, what is your name?"

The man gulped and his eyes darted to Jung Chan before replying.

"Floyd Stephens."

"And what was your mission here, Floyd Stephens?" Fury asked.

"Our mission was to eliminate you and Agent Courtenay as a threat."

"A threat to what?"

"Our leader knows that you are after the Vesuvius."

"Did your mission include taking the lives of all the innocent people on this plane?"

Stephens started stonily at the ground. "No. But we were told to anticipate that as a possibility."

"And the pilot. Was he a part of your team as well?"

"Yes."

"Good job," Ragan said, her voice laced with sarcasm. She replaced the gag and turned to Jung Chan. "What is your name?" she asked, after removing his gag.

Jung Chan's chest puffed. "I am Jung Chan. My name is known and feared across the many continents on this earth." Ragan raised an eyebrow, but he was not finished. "I am strong, and fearless. I do not sway to torture, no matter the method. My –"

"Your head is big," Ragan interrupted. "And if you don't stop talking, I'll help you deflate it."

"You do not frighten me," Jung Chan sneered. Ragan glared at him.

"Who is your leader, O mighty Jung Chan?" Fury cut in. A heartbeat passed.

"Ivan Sergey," Jung Chan admitted with some reluctance.

Fury looked at Courtenay. "Who is that? The name sounds familiar."

"He's the Russian general at the Tara base," Ragan replied. "His name was in the information file."

"How can we get into the Tara base without being immediately detected?" Fury asked, returning his attention to Jung Chan. The assassin glared.

"You cannot. It is impossible."

"Let me rephrase the question," Ragan suggested. "How quickly are you going to answer this question before I shoot you?" Jung Chan fell silent. "Tell me!" Ragan commanded, but Jung Chan refused to answer. "I'll shoot you in the leg," Ragan warned. When he did nothing, she added, "And then if you still don't answer, I will shoot you in the same spot again."

Jung Chan glanced at Fury, presumably for help, but he shrugged. "Don't look at me. I'm with her."

"I'll give you one more chance," Ragan said, her temper rising. "Tell us how to enter the building." Three seconds passed, then Ragan pulled the trigger.

Jung Chan gave a cry of pain.

"Tell me!" Ragan commanded. "Or I will shoot you again." Jung Chan glared back with steely resolve.

"Fine." She rounded on a very startled Floyd Stephens and held her gun to his leg, taking off his gag. "Tell me how to enter Tara Headquarters." His face blanched, but he gave no answer. "Alright," she said, "I guess I'll have to shoot you, too." Fury couldn't help noticing that she sounded very happy about this.

"Wait!" Stephens yelled. "Jung Chan and I have gate passes to the Tara headquarters. Take them, and use them to enter the building."

Jung Chan began screaming angrily at Stephens in Japanese.

"Shut up!" Courtenay yelled sharply, scowling. They both shut up.

"Nice work," Fury commented, as Courtenay replaced their gags. He dug through their pockets and found the passes that Stephens had spoken of.

"Thanks," she sighed. "I wasn't very good, though. Stubborn hostages stress me out." She returned to the cockpit and Fury opened the cabin door to a sea of frightened faces.

"Sorry about the noise," he apologized. "Information extractions are rarely quiet." Then he shut the door and joined Ragan in the cockpit.

"Here," he said, handing her Jung Chan's pass.

"Thanks." She took it, and Fury noticed that her hand was trembling.

A crash from the cabin suddenly broke the silence.

"What the…" Fury stood just as a frightened man entered the cockpit.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice stoically strong.

"What happened?" Fury questioned quickly.

"The two assassins were suddenly standing over us, telling us not to make a sound," the man explained. "They had guns."

"How did they escape their bonds?" Courtenay asked grimly, glaring at him. The man's eyes flicked nervously over to her.

"I freed them, ma'am," he answered hesitantly. "I'm a doctor and I wanted to check the man's bullet wound. So I untied his legs, and somehow, he was able to free his hands. Both of the men jumped out a window, wearing parachutes. This is my fault," he finished miserably.

"Yes, it is!" Fury agreed angrily. "I cannot believe this. Our passes won't work if they're able to warn Ivan Sergey. Ragan," he said, turning to her. "What do you think we ought to do?"

Ragan frowned, thinking. "Well, Jung Chan has a bullet wound in his leg, so unless the Russians send out a helicopter to retrieve them or something, we should be fine. And if the passes won't work, we're back to where we were before, so that's not too bad. And apparently, our plans were discovered before we even boarded, or else Jung Chan and his friends wouldn't have been on the plane in the first place, so it's not as if things could get any worse on that front. I'll radio General Morrison and catch him up, though."

"Is everyone alright?" Fury asked the man."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. That's the most important thing. But next time you find yourself in the presence of an international assassin that has been captured, don't untie him."

"Yes, sir."

#

The rest of the flight passed uneventfully, and when they reached Kalinovka at four a.m. the next morning, Fury and Ragan made it quickly to their hotel and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

 _Sorry that chapter was a little slow! I have big plans for the next chapter though, which will contain almost too much action. Fury and Courtenay won't know what hit them! *evil cackle*_

 _Questions? Comments? Favorite color? ;)_

 _~Xx_


	5. CHAPTER FIVE: Winter in Kalinovka

_Chapter 5 has some new characters... bet you didn't see that coming x)_

 _The parts in italics are spoken in Russian, but as I don't speak Russian, I had to compromise._

 _Disclaimer: The only characters I own are Agent Ragan Courtenay, Jung Chan, Floyd Stephens, and Dr. Gavriil Belov. Everything else belongs to Marvel._

 _~Xx_

* * *

Three hours later, Fury and Courtenay were driving down a lonely road through the woods, finishing up their planning.

"So," Ragan said, "if all goes as planned, we reach our hotel in Russia at seven tonight. We get five hours of sleep, leave at 12 a.m. the next morning, and still have an 11-hour drive ahead of us. That puts us at the Tara base at 11 a.m., if I did the math right."

"I'm not going to try to figure it out, because I already know you're right," Fury responded.

Ragan fluttered her eyelashes, pretending to be astonished. "Why, Nicholas," she gushed, "that's high praise coming from you. I understand that you preferred working alone at one point. I expected you'd want to figure everything out yourself."

Fury rolled his eyes. "Let's stay on track, Agent Courtenay," he said sternly, but he couldn't help cracking a smile. "Talk to me. What's next?"

"We arrive at Tara Headquarters and use Jung Chan and Floyd Stephens' passes to get through the gate. If they don't work, or we're stopped, we kill the guards, but hopefully we won't have to do that because it would alert the Russians to our presence sooner."

"That's correct. Then what?"

"Actually," Ragan said, frowning at her mobile,, "I have a question about that last part. It says here in the information files that they change guards every night at ten p.m. Why don't we try getting in then? It would be a lot easier. We could kill them both and you could impersonate one of them. You could take Floyd Stephens' identity and it would be a lot more effective and discreet. Plus, I'm sure you'd look amazing in a Russian uniform," she teased.

"I don't believe this," Fury said, shaking his head. "I'm about to throw you out of the car and you can walk the rest of the way." Courtenay laughed. "To answer your question, the reason why we're not waiting until they change guards is because we would have to hang around Russia for eleven hours while we waited for ten o'clock to roll around."

"That makes sense." Ragan nodded, satisfied. "Okay. So. We use our passes to get through the gates. Then we take out the guards installed at the front of the building and use their passes to get inside. Then we take the elevator down, hopefully before they send more guards. You go to the fourth sub floor and take the bomb and I go to the fifth sub floor and free Stark. Whoever finishes first meets the other to help them out, then I hijack a plane or copter, and we're out."

Fury nodded his approval. "Any questions? Suggestions?" he asked, glancing at her.

"Nope," Ragan replied. Then she frowned at the road. "What's that?"

Startled, Fury turned his attention back on the road. A lone figure was standing right in the middle.

"It looks like a man," Ragan observed. "I hope he gets out of the way. Hang on," she said, leaning forward as they got closer. "What's with his arm? It looks almost… metal."

Fury squinted at the figure. Ragan was right. A metal arm… a thought struck him. It couldn't be… "The Winter Soldier!" Fury yelled as the metal arm flashed. "Look ou —" his warning was lost as gunfire cracked through the air. Bullets ripped through the windshield, and Ragan gave a cry of pain. They were almost upon him.

"Hang on!" Fury yelled, yanking the steering wheel to the right. They flashed past the Winter Soldier with an inch to spare. Another volley of gunshots assaulted them, and Fury lost control of the car. They went off the road and crashed into a tree at high speed. Fury's vision blackened, and he remembered no more.

#

When he awoke, he was laying on the forest ground. Ragan was sitting propped up against a tree near him, tight-lipped, and Fury noticed tear stains fading on her cheeks. Blood stained her jacket. The car was a few meters away, a total wreck, and looked as though it had been burning for a while.

"Wha…" Fury started to sit up but stopped when a throbbing pain exploded in his head. He groaned and collapsed back on the ground, his vision starting to darken again. He lay still for a few minutes, breathing slowly and trying to remember what had happened. He remembered gunshots, losing control of the car, piercing black eyes… and a metal arm.

"The Winter Soldier," he said, his voice painful and scratchy.

"Yep," Ragan confirmed. Fury struggled into a sitting position. Even that was hard. His neck and shoulders were stiff and painful to use, and he was dizzy. He blinked at Ragan, but his vision was foggy and blurred.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

Ragan frowned down at her arm. "He got my left arm twice." She gave a rueful smile. "Kind of ironic, if you think about it. I'm losing a lot of blood, but I wrapped up the wounds as tightly as I could one-handed." Ragan had cut the left sleeve off her jacket, then cut it lengthwise and tied the strips around the wounds. Both were seeped with blood. She had her right thumb pressed to the crook of her elbow, putting indirect pressure on the brachial artery to cut the blood loss. She shifted uncomfortably. "I tried elevating my arm for a while, but it hurt too much so I stopped."

Fury grunted in pain, trying to keep his neck still while he inspected her blood-soaked arm. "How long have we been here?" He questioned.

"About half an hour. It' around two thirty in the afternoon. And this is a _really_ lonely road – no one has passed us this entire time."

Fury sighed, passing a hand over his eyes. "We have to get the bullets out of your arm. But I can't do it. My neck and shoulders are stiff and sore and I can't get my eyes to focus." He closed his eyes. "What exactly happened?"

"The Russians must have sent the Winter Soldier to kill us," Ragan explained. "He shot at us, as I'm sure you remember, and that's when he hit my arm. He took out our tires and we crashed into a tree. You hit your head on the dashboard and I'm pretty sure you have a bad case of whiplash from the impact."

Fury rubbed his neck gingerly. "That would explain why it feels like someone cut off my head and tried to sew it back on."

"After you got knocked out," Ragan continued, "I heard the Winter Soldier coming up to the car. I assumed that he was checking to make sure we were dead, so I laid my head on the dashboard and pretended to be. There was a gasoline leak and a fire started, but he was still there so I couldn't do anything. After a while though, I was pretty sure it was going to blow up so I took a chance and pulled you out. But that time, he was gone, thankfully. I managed to save all our luggage, too." She sighed. Fury looked at her in concern.

"We have to get you medical attention."

"Here. "Ragan handed him a map of Russia. "I took this out of the car. The closest town is Aktobe."

Carefully, Fury got to his feet. "Good thing we both packed light, because I'll be carrying everything." He helped Ragan to stand. "Now, I can't see very well, so it'll be up to you to make sure we get to where we want to go. Think you can handle it?" Ragan nodded, but swayed on her feet. Fury grabbed her before her knees buckled, and she hung onto his shoulder with her right arm.

"Sorry," she managed to say through clenched teeth. "It just hurts like crazy." Fury quickly made his jacket into a sling for her, then they began the long hike to Aktobe, with Fury holding the bags, one arm around Ragan's waist, and Ragan clutching the map in her left hand, her right arm circling his neck as she leaned against him for support, fighting the pain.

#

They stumbled into Aktobe right around 5 o'clock, three hours later. A very concerned citizen rushed them to the small local hospital in his rickety truck. Ragan especially caused quite a stir, and most of the available doctors and nurses gathered in the surgery room to extract the bullets.

Meanwhile, Fury was examined by a kind old doctor named Gavriil Belov, who couldn't speak much English. Thankfully, Fury was fluent in Russian, so they could still understand one another.

Dr. Belov finished his examination and turned his attention to Fury.

" _I am afraid you have a severe case of whiplash,_ " the doctor told him. " _Unfortunately, there is nothing much that I can do for that. Sleep and rest will help. However, you have a large abrasion on your forehead, and that, I can do something about. It is not bad enough that you need stitches, so I will give you an ointment that I will only have to apply once. Also, I can get you a medication for the pain in your neck and shoulders._ "

" _Thank you,_ " said Fury gratefully. As the Dr. Belov began to apply the ointment, he asked, " _How is my friend?_ "

" _She is handling herself well. You will be able to see her as soon as the doctors are finished._ "

A short while later, Fury was allowed to see Ragan. She was dressed in a clean change of clothes and her arm was bandaged tightly, and was in a sling. But she smiled when Fury entered. He crossed the room and sat down on the foot of the bed.

"How are you feeling?"

"A lot better," Ragan said. "They cleaned me and stitched me up and gave me something for the pain. How about you?"

"Fine. There's not much you can do for whiplash except rest, so I'll probably feel better tomorrow."

"Will this set back the mission?" Ragan asked with concern. Fury hesitated. "I feel fine," she insisted. "And I can still use my right hand to shoot."

Fury frowned thoughtfully. "For now, let's continue as planned. If we feel worse tomorrow, we can call it off, but Stark needs help." Ragan cheered silently.

"Well," Fury stood. "I'll see about renting a car. Get some rest."

"Copy that," Ragan agreed with a small smile as Fury left the room.

#

Another few hours' time found the agents back on the road, revising their plans. Fury decided that, since they were already off track, they could get a full night's rest at their next hotel and go with the plan where they entered Tara Headquarters at ten, when the guards were changed. They crossed the border into Russia late that night, reached their hotel at two in the morning and got their first full night's sleep for the first time in days.

The next morning, Fury woke to find Ragan, her curly hair wet and stringy from the shower, shuffling around in her pajamas and a fluffy white robe (courtesy of room service), her left arm still in its sling, with their entire inventory of assorted weapons strewn around the room. She was holding a handgun in her right hand and frowning at it.

A million jokes flew through Fury's head, but all he managed to get out was, "What."

She looked up. "Oh. Good morning. I already had breakfast and I was just testing my aim outside a minute ago. Which is perfect as usual, by the way."

Fury sat up carefully, wincing a little when pain shot through his stiff neck.

"How do you feel?" Ragan asked, eyeing him carefully.

Fury tried to shrug but changed his mind. "Passable. My eyesight is back to normal, though."

"Good. When do we leave?"

Fury swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I want to leave by seven thirty. That will put us at the base around seven this evening. But first I'm going to eat and take a walk to clear my head."

"Here." Ragan tossed him a pistol. "Take this with you. Find some place to practice."

#

As Fury strolled around the small town, his mind wandered back to all that had happened in the past couple of days. Only two days ago, he was still in Washington, D.C., dreading the upcoming assignment because he preferred working alone. He never would have guessed that, only two days later, Ragan Courtenay would have saved his life.

Suddenly, he became aware of the sound of quiet footfalls softly following him. His whole body tensed, and he reached for the hidden pistol, his fingers wrapping around it tightly.

 _Well, Ragan said I should get some target practice,_ he thought wryly, then whipped around, to find himself holding a small child at gunpoint. The little girl stared back unflinchingly, and tucked a stray curl that was red as fire behind her ear.

Quickly, Fury lowered his gun and relaxed. " _I'm sorry,_ " he apologized in Russian. " _I'm not going to hurt you. What is your name?_ "

" _Natalia,_ " the little girl replied seriously. Then she drew her short stature up to its full height. " _I am five_ ," she told him proudly.

Fury mentally kicked himself for drawing on an innocent five-year-old. " _Why were you following me, Natalia?_ " Fury asked. Her gaze flickered to his pistol.

" _You have a gun,_ " she answered. " _I want to see it._ "

Vaguely, Fury wondered how on earth a little girl of five could have noticed a concealed weapon, but he held it out anyways. Natalia's eyes shone as she stared at it, but Fury pulled it back when she reached for it.

" _It's not safe to play with_ ," he apologized. Natalia's eyes snapped, and her fist shot out and hit his solar plexus without warning.

Completely unprepared, Fury doubled over, gasping for breath. But Natalia wasn't finished. Fury ended up on the ground when the ball of her foot hit his temple in a perfectly placed hook kick. Natalia grabbed the pistol out of his surprised grasp.

" _Spesibo_ ," she said sweetly, saying the Russian word for thank you. Then she ran off, smirking over her shoulder, red curls flying.

Groaning, Fury picked himself off the ground and watched her disappear before returning to the hotel.

#

"How did your practice go?" Ragan asked when he entered the room.

A smile played at the corners of Fury's mouth. "It would have gone wonderfully if a five-year-old girl hadn't stolen my pistol and almost knocked me out."

Ragan let out a surprised burst of laughter.

"What? She caught me off guard. And she knew what she was doing. This is Russia we're talking about, after all."

"And so, what? You just let her have it?"

Fury let out a snort. "Well, she seemed really happy about it. And she earned it. And let me tell you something – if I ever find myself in a war, I hope she's on my side."

* * *

 _The Winter Soldier and Little Nat were so much fun to write. Tell me in the reviews which part was your favorite! I hope you're enjoying the story so far. Please leave a review because they're literally the most helpful things ever!_

 _~Xx_


	6. CHAPTER SIX: Carrying Out the Plan

_Sorry chapter six is being posted so late! D: I've been sick & haven't really felt like writing. But here it is, and better late than never, right? Come back tomorrow, I'll be posting the seventh chapter sometime then. :)_

 _Please note that if anything spoken by the characters is written in italics, they are speaking Russian._

 _Also, I changed the time in which the guards are switched out from 8 pm to 10 pm in consideration of my poor mc's who need their beauty sleep._

 _DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters except for Agent Ragan Courtenay, Jung Chan, Floyd Stephens, Alexandr Moskalev and Ivan Sergey. Everything else belongs to Marvel, though if they want to give me Bucky Barnes I won't turn him down. (Looking at you, Kevin Feige ;D)_

 _~Xx_

* * *

Before the ingenious ten o'clock plan could be carried out, however, Fury and Ragan had an eleven-hour straight drive ahead of them before they reached the Tara base. Ragan was disappointed that she couldn't take a turn at the wheel with her injured arm, but she knew that their chances of dying in a car accident would rise if she drove.

So, eleven hours and a couple cups of coffee later, Fury parked the borrowed car behind an abandoned warehouse, three miles away from the Tara base and woke Ragan up.

"Rise and shine," he said. "It's seven p.m."

Ragan peeled her eyes open sleepily. "Three hours till guard change?"

"That's right. I'm going to get some sleep. You can do whatever you want but wake me up in plenty of time." He paused. "Oh – by the way, you drool when you sleep. Just thought you should know."

Ragan hastily swiped at her chin. "I do not!" she complained.

Fury gave a smug grin before leaning back his seat and falling asleep.

#

Ragan awoke Fury at the appropriate time by pinching his nose shut. He choked and sat up quickly, throwing her a death glare.

"You snore when you sleep," she informed him triumphantly.

He rolled his eyes at her. "You know, for being a top level spy agent for the CIA, you're scarily immature."

In response, Ragan stuck her tongue out, proving Fury's point.

"So what did you get up to while I was asleep?" Fury asked, deciding to change the subject.

Ragan shrugged. "I went over the plan again, several times actually, and organized the weapons. I divided them, and decided which of us will be carrying each one."

"I thought we were each going to take our own."

"Well, we kind of are. You can't take all yours, plus your tool set for dismantling the bomb and still travel efficiently. And with my left arm injured, I can't carry any weapons on my left side because they would be too difficult to reach with my right hand."

"What, you can't just reach across and grab it off your left hip?" Fury raised an amused eyebrow.

"Actually, I was referring to my left thigh holster."

"Oh." Ragan smirked at his discomfort.

"Right. So, anyways, as I was saying, we're only taking the most important things," she finished.

"Did you remember the flashlights?" Fury quizzed.

"Yes."

"Smoke grenade?"

"You're carrying that."

"Radios?"

"Of course."

"What about my lock-picking set?"

"Relax, Nicholas, it's in my bag. I remembered everything. We even both have non-perishable snack food." Fury stared at her in disbelief. "Like I said, I thought of everything."

"So, we're good to go."

"One other thing. I changed part of the plan. Instead of stealing a helicopter after we disarm the Vesuvius and get Stark out, we're doing it beforehand, on the way into the building."

"But that will increase our risk of getting caught before we get into the building, and that's a very important factor to the success off the mission," Fury pointed out.

"I think that a fast getaway is worth the risk," Ragan disagreed.

Fury nodded slowly. "Alright. We'll do it your way. You ready?"

"Ready."

#

At exactly ten o'clock, Fury and Courtenay pulled in front of the locked iron gates. Both guards looked up in surprise as Fury halted the car in front of them. He rolled down the window and handed over the passes. Both guards scrutinized them warily.

" _You are not Jung Chan or Floyd Stephens_ ," said one guard suspiciously in Russian. " _Are you American?_ "

" _Jung Chan and Floyd Stephens are in the back, and they are in a hurry,_ " Fury responded sternly. The passes did not have picture IDs, so the guard must have seen them at some point.

" _Your car is not registered,_ " the guard pointed out.

" _That is because we stole it. We have driven a long way in a hurry to get here._ "

" _I want to see their faces,_ " the guard argued. Fury frowned for a moment, as if listening.

" _Jung Chan will see no one but General Ivan Sergey, and he is getting impatient. Jung Chan has important news to deliver._ " The guards' faces whitened visibly.

" _Jung Chan, A08. Floyd Stephens, S23. Chauffer. Entering at 22:02,_ " the guard said, speaking quickly into a radio, then handed the passes back. The massive gates rolled opened slowly and Fury drove the car through onto the base. Ragan hopped out the back with two knives and hurled them one after the other directly into the guards' necks at an astonishing speed for doing it one-handed, and quickly snatched their IDs off of their belts. Then she hopped back into the car and Fury sped them to the hangar. There was no one around, so it didn't take long for them to pick the lock of a helicopter and break into the control panel, getting it ready to be hotwired.

"Now we're going in," Ragan said nervously as they got back in the car. Fury set his jaw and turned the car to the building's entrance. He rounded the corner of the building, revved the engine and took out two of the four unsuspecting guards with the front of the car. Immediately, a shower of bullets from the two other soldiers hammered relentlessly into the car.

Fury slammed on the brakes as Ragan swung out of the car and began firing back. Within moments, the remaining two Russians were dead. Alarms screeched as Fury pulled out one of the passes from the guard at the gate and swiped it underneath the scanner, examining it with impressed interest.

" _Please stand by. Preparing retinal scan,_ " said a pleasant-voiced, computerized Russian.

"No, thanks," Fury replied, ripping the box off the wall with the help of a blow from the grip of his pistol. A confusing array of tangled wires stared back at him. Swiftly, he began unplugging wires and occasionally punching buttons on the face of the box, which was still barely connected to the wall by a couple of wires.

" _Retinal scan – please press – Code Red, you are not authorized – system override – identification accepted._ " The doors slid open, and Fury and Ragan ran inside to find a small army racing down the hallway towards them. Fury punched the elevator more times than was strictly necessary as the soldiers began shooting. The elevator doors opened and Ragan and Fury fell into it. The doors shut, bullets ricocheting off the outside.

"Thank goodness for bulletproof vests," Ragan commented as the elevator descended. "I got hit at least once. These things are amazing. I love living in the twentieth century."

"We're nearing the fourth sublevel," said Fury tensely. "I'll meet up with you later. Make sure that bulletproof vest keeps on doing its job." The elevator doors glided open smoothly and Fury shot the four men waiting outside.

"Stay safe," Ragan called as the doors closed once more.

Fury consulted the memorized blueprint and took off down the hallway. When he reached the doorway, he found it locked and protected with a security system similar to the one at the front of the building, as expected. Hurriedly, he dismantled it and opened the door.

Alexandr Moskalev and a team of specialists stared back at him.

" _Move!_ " Moskalev roared, and the soldiers drew their guns. As they began firing harmlessly at his bulletproof-covered chest, Fury pulled the pin of the smoke grenade and threw it into their midst, then took the opportunity to shoot them all. After waiting a precious moment for the smoke to clear, he hurried forward towards the Vesuvius, then stopping himself an inch away from stepping on something small and round. Curious, he picked it up and his eyes widened. It was a tiny piece of technology, an ear communicator by the looks of it. It must have fallen out of one of the soldiers' ears when he fell. The Russians did not skimp on modern equipment. Fury promised to study it later and stuffed it in his pocket.

Then, he got out his bomb kit and went to work on the Vesuvius.

First, he had to disconnect the wires that ran from the battery to the detonator. This was the past in which Stark had most likely installed a failsafe. Sure enough, there was a tiny switch the size of a fingernail next to one of the wires, designed to flip on if one of the wires was removed. Fury carefully disassembled it and moved on.

Next, he had to remove the neuron trigger. It was disc shaped and probably made out of polonium, unless Howard Stark had used some other, more highly radioactive material previously unknown to man that was stashed away in his basement, which was entirely possible. Fury was trying to remove it gingerly with a pair of pliers when Ragan's voice came over the radio.

"I couldn't find Stark," she said. "They must have relocated him. Or worse. I'll join you in a minute."

"10-4," Fury responded, then finished removing the neuron trigger. The bomb was still active, but now it would be a significantly smaller and less dangerous explosion if something set it off. Now, all he had left was to remove the conventional explosive and separate the U-235 masses.

But before he could start on removing the conventional explosive, Ragan entered, looking upset.

"We have to leave right now, Nicholas," she said. Fury looked up quickly.

"Why? What happened?"

"They're sending too many troops at once. We won't be able to fight our way out, especially not with my one arm in a stupid sling. And I bet your head is still sore and stiff from that whiplash." It was, along with his neck and upper back, but Fury didn't want to admit it. Instead, he scoffed and returned his attention to the bomb.

"Is that all? I know we're in a tight spot but we knew that going into this. I know we can stay here and finish the job and still leave safely. I trust you, Ragan."

"Nicholas." Her voice was barely a whisper, and so solemn that he looked up. Her face was deadly serious, but Fury knew her well enough by now that he figured she was struggling with her emotions. "I'm really worried about our chances." She hesitated. "If we don't make it out…"

"Hey." Fury set down his pliers and took both of her hands in his. "It's going to be okay." Ragan just shook her head sadly. Fury opened his mouth to encourage her, but suddenly she was kissing him.

It was a life-or-death kiss. Thinking you were going to die in a short amount of time made you want to live life to its fullest right at the end. That's what Ragan's kiss was like, and it caught Fury completely by surprise. But he hadn't realized until that moment how much she meant to him. He kissed her back, twisting her short curly hair in his fingers.

Too soon, she pulled away. "I'm sorry, Nicholas," she whispered, and Fury opened his eyes to look at her.

Suddenly, fire erupted in his left eye. Piercing, burning, blinding agony. He dropped to his knees, clawing at his eye, trying to wrench it out of its socket. Even that horrible pain would be better than the feeling that knives were trying to dig their way into his skull. Strong arms grasped his and locked them behind his back, and he was pulled to his feet. He could feel himself yelling, but the pain in his eye was screaming, shrieking, and he could not hear himself.

Light flashed behind his closed eyelids, pure white, fading quickly, then flashing again. Over and over and over again. He was forced to walk. They were taking him somewhere, but he didn't care where. The liquid fire cut through him, poison seeping into his veins. He was pushed roughly to the ground, and somewhere far away, he heard a lock slide shut.

* * *

 _I hope you enjoyed that! Tell me in the reviews what you think will happen in the next chapter. Also, I'm planning on writing a Clintasha fic next, so if you have a prompt, send it on over! I need all the help I can get. :D_


	7. CHAPTER SEVEN: Information Extraction

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters except for Agent Ragan Courtenay, Jung Chan, Floyd Stephens, General Morrison and Mr. Bradshaw. Everything else belongs to Marvel._

 _~Xx_

* * *

The pain was driving him insane. He pulled and struggled against the restraints and cried out until his voice was hoarse. Finally, he heard his cell door open and gentle arms held him steady.

"Ragan?" he gasped.

"Hold still," a masculine voice responded.

"My eye is on fire," Fury moaned.

"I know. Hold still. I'm going to flush it with water." A moment later, something cool and wet slipped over Fury's eye, down the side of his face, taking the fire with it. An itchy, stinging pain was all that remained. The wetness was quickly dried away with some type of cloth. Fury groaned with relief.

"Did that help?" another distant voice asked anxiously. "There was a lot of water left in that bottle. I only drank out of it once."

"Seriously, Stark?" said the first man incredulously.

"Yeah, it helped," said Fury, struggling to sit up. "Howard Stark, is that you?"

"In the flesh," replied Stark. "I'll give you an autograph later, assuming you'll be able to see it. I take it that you were supposed to be my extraction team?"

"Half of it," Fury verified. "Who else is here?"

"I'm Hank Pym of Pym Technologies. I should be as famous as Stark here, but apparently I'm not."

"That's because I'm young and handsome and you're, well…"

"What happened to my eye?" Fury interrupted. Hank sighed heavily.

"I'm no doctor, but it looks like someone threw a lot of acid or something in it."

"Carborane acid, by the looks of it," Stark agreed. "That stuff is strong."

Fury battled down the panic rising in the pit of his stomach. "Will I ever be able to use it again?"

"No," Stark said bluntly. "Carborane acid is highly toxic and a lot of it got directly on the surface of your eye. You're lucky none of it got in your other eye or you'd be blind in both."

"I'm going to wrap it up with something so you can open your right eye," said Pym, and a second later, Fury heard the sound of something ripping. Then a rough strip of cloth was bound firmly around his head over his left eye and secured. Carefully, he opened his right eye. He was in a prison cell, and Hank Pym was sitting next to him in gray prison garb, observing him closely. Howard Stark, looking worse for the wear, was watching with interest two cells away.

Fury frowned in confusion. "Is that your cell, Pym?" he asked, gesturing toward the empty cell between his and Stark's.

"Yes."

Fury raised an eyebrow.

"I stole the keys when the guards weren't looking," Stark called. "Honestly, guards are so incompetent."

"Did they take all your weapons?" Hank Pym asked. "You don't have a knife in your boot or a Taser in your pocket or anything?"

"No, they took everything," Fury sighed, shoving a hand into his pocket. His fingers came into contact with something small and hard. "There is this, though," he said, pulling out the ear communicator. Hank's eyes widened and he snatched the ear piece from Fury's grasp. "It's useless, though, unless we want to contact Ivan Sergey," Fury pointed out. But Pym wasn't listening.

"Stark," he said, breathless with excitement. "It's my SHIELD ear comm!"

Howard Stark sat up quickly. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure! There's a tiny freaking _eagle_ printed on the side!"

"Well, it's not like I can see it from here!"

"What's shield?" Fury cut in.

Pym turned to him. "It stands for Strategic —"

"Shut up, someone's coming," Stark hissed. Pym scrambled to get out of Fury's cell and into his own, slipping the keys to Stark right before two armed guards entered. Wordlessly, they entered Fury's cell and hauled him to his feet, securing his hands behind him once more. Fury could feel Pym's and Stark's eyes on him as he was led from the room.

Fury was taken to a small interrogation room where Ragan Courtenay was waiting. He'd thought that his first reaction upon seeing her once more would have been wild uncontrollable hate or something similar, but all he felt was a smooth calculation of her as he was shoved into a chair, his shackled arms looped over the back rest.

"Sorry about the kiss," Courtenay started out. "I hope you didn't think I meant anything by it. I just had to get close enough to toss the acid in your eye. I was actually never meant to do that. The plan… fell apart a little… and suddenly you were disarming the Vesuvius and we had to think fast before you could finish. But anyways. I thought you might want to talk." She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. It felt wrong, both of them sitting there, like everything was almost right, but not quite.

"Well, you thought wrong," Fury responded coolly. "From one spy to another, I understand how this works."

"Well then," said Courtenay, "I have some questions for you." Suddenly, she was leaning over him, palms face down on the table, looking at him intently. Her eyes held an unfamiliar dark anger. "Why are you really here?"

The question caught Fury off guard and his mind began to race. He decided to pretend he had something to hide, to see where it led him. He shrugged carelessly. "Let me think. Oh, right – I'm sitting here because your Russian guards dragged me here and locked me up. It wasn't my call, trust me. Can I return to my cell?"

Courtenay's beautiful eyes glinted dangerously. "Don't play games with me, Nicholas. And no, you can't return to your cell. Not until you tell me everything that SHIELD is planning." That name again. SHIELD. Who were they?

"SHIELD," said Fury musingly. He cocked his head at her. "As if SHIELD would willingly give information to anyone on _your side_." He held his breath, waiting for her response. Was there another side?

Courtenay smiled slowly. "You forget that HYDRA was formed before SHIELD. We have had a much longer period of time in which to organize ourselves. Did you think it was a coincidence that the Vesuvius was being shipped to a base so close to our headquarters?"

Not quite sure how to respond, Fury changed tactics. "How did you find out that I was with SHIELD?"

Courtenay shrugged. "A lucky guess. One that is going to pay off here in a minute when you start talking."

"A lucky guess," Fury scoffed, his mind racing. Tiny details of their trip began to float to the surface of his mind, and he suddenly wanted to kill himself for not realizing that she was a double agent sooner. "I knew you were HYDRA from the start."

Ragan raised both eyebrows stiffly. "Explain."

Fur shifted. His arms were starting to fall asleep behind the back of his chair. "First of all, the extreme coincidence that Chan and Stephens were on the same flight we were. General Morrison book that flight himself under a different name about five hours before the plane took off, yet there they were, on a flight from Washington, D.C., America to Kalinovka, Kazakhstan." Fury paused as more pieces of the puzzle fitted themselves into place. "You arranged for them to escape the plane. You freed them while I was asleep and threatened a passenger into telling me that he did it. That's why he was so nervous. You also threatened Chan and Stephens into holding up under the interrogation, which explains why were you so happy to shoot Jung Chan in the leg and why you got so angry when Stephens didn't hold up."

Courtenay's eyes flashed. "I should have killed him when I had the chance," she muttered.

"Your backstory," Fury remembered suddenly. "It was made up so I would trust you more quickly."

Courtenay gave a hint of a smile. "You're wrong," she said. "That tragic backstory was really my own. The only thing I didn't tell you was that Mr. Bradshaw, the naval officer who adopted me after my uncle died, was a HYDRA officer. That's how I discovered it."

"Thank you for being so honest with me during this interrogation," said Fury, "but I have one last question which I am sure you will be happy to answer. What is HYDRA planning to do with the Vesuvius?"

Courtenay stood suddenly. "No. It's your loss, not knowing. Tell me what SHIELD is planning or I will make you."

"Your loss."

"Tell me."

Fury said nothing.

"Tell. Me. NOW."

"Watch that temper, darling. I remember you saying something about how uncooperative hostages stress you out."

Courtenay glared daggers into him but sank slowly into her chair. "Fine. I'll settle for an exchange of information. I tell you what HYDRA is planning, you tell me what SHIELD is planning."

"SHIELD doesn't negotiate," Fury responded, hoping they didn't. "And it's not that hard to guess what HYDRA is up to, come to think of it. Vesuvius, top assassins… my guess is that HYDRA managed to sneak agents into SHIELD and is preparing to overthrow it. Unfortunately, that's not going to happen. I'm not going to tell you SHIELD's plan. I can hold up under months of torture and by then, you'll have found out for yourself what they're planning. HYDRA will be no more."

"Cut off a head, and two more will take its place." Courtenay's voice was cold and hard, her eyes dark and dangerous. It sent a shiver down Fury's spine. "Take him back to his cell. We'll finish this later. Hail HYDRA."

* * *

 _Hope you enjoyed! Chapter 8 to come soon. :)_


	8. CHAPTER EIGHT: Shield Intervention

_Here's the last chapter! Enjoy!_

 _DISCLAIMER: I only own Agent Ragan Courtenay and Agent Johnson. Everything else belongs to Marvel._

 _~Xx_

* * *

After the interrogation, Fury was shoved back into his cell where he flopped dejectedly onto his cot.

"How did it go?" Hank asked.

Fury grunted in reply. He felt ridiculous for feeling betrayed. As a spy, he was very familiar with Courtenay's technique: going undercover somewhere, gaining people's trust to gather intel on their activities, and then sometimes revealing your cover if necessary. He felt stupid for caring so much. But Courtenay was such a unique person. And she'd made him feel so… special. Yeah, he was definitely a loser.

Fury sighed and shifted on his uncomfortable cot.

"You get used to them after a while," Howard Stark called. "Actually, I don't think they're half bad. Missing a little company, though."

"I found out a lot about SHIELD today," Fury spoke up. "But not enough. Would you mind enlightening me?"

"First thing you need to know is that SHIELD stands for Strategic Homeland Intervention and Enforcement Logistics Division," Stark replied. "Secondly, that it it's all but run by me, and that we stand for the freedom of this country."

"HYDRA, a corrupt government agency, was founded before SHIELD," Pym added. "So in a way, I suppose we're sort of an anti-HYDRA. It's HYDRA's objective to achieve world domination, brought about through terrorism and subversive activities."

"Subversive activities. That sounds cryptic," Fury remarked dryly.

"A good example of HYDRA's 'subversive activities' is their attempting to get their dirty hands on my Vesuvius," Stark spoke up.

"SHIELD is led by incredibly intelligent, talented people with a strong sense of loyalty and leadership and high ambitions," Pym continued.

"Yeah, incredibly intelligent, talented, and gorgeous people," Stark cut in dreamily.

"How kind of you, Stark. I'll make sure to pass that compliment on to Director Stoner," Hank said.

"That sounds like the kind of thing I would like," said Fury, musing on Pym's description. "Too bad I'll never get the chance to look around for myself. We'll probably spend the rest of our lives in this stinkhole."

After a pause, Hank cleared his throat. "Actually… Stark was able to get that ear comm up and running again. I don't know how he did it, but we were able to contact SHIELD HQ during your little fireside chat. Backup should be here soon."

"Soon?" Fury asked, shocked. "It took Agent Courtenay and I over twenty three hours to get here!"

"Agent, you're going to faint when you see our ride," Stark promised.

At that moment, alarms buzzed off all over the building and an angry Russian started barking orders over the loudspeaker.

"He's calling for extra reinforcement around the airstrip and guarding the Vesuvius," Fury translated.

"Then let's go help them out," Stark suggested, getting up and unlocking the door of his cell.

"Stark, are you nuts?" Hank yelped. "If we go try to get our hands on your weapon right now, we'll be dead before you can say 'I should have listened to Pym'."

"Then I won't say that," said Stark, unlocking Hank's cell door. "Think you'll be able to keep up with us, Fury?" he asked, moving on to Fury's cell.

"I certainly hope so," Fury responded.

"Good. Because I'm not going to be carrying you piggyback the whole time."

By this time, they were hurrying along the hallway as fast as they could. But Stark was limping, due to multiple injuries from the torture he'd gone through, Pym was wheezing, and though Fury was holding up well to the pain in his eye, he was just beginning to realize that they were completely unarmed and this was the most insane, unorganized plan carried out with the least capable people that he'd ever been a part of.

And so, it was with either great coincidence or cruel irony that at that moment, as they were about to round a corner, Stark hissed urgently, "I hear soldiers. Coming towards us. There are probably six or seven of them."

Fury's heart rate quickened dangerously as his mind raced through their incredibly short list of realistic options. The thundering footfalls were almost upon them when he looked over his shoulder and found that they had just passed a door.

"Quick! In here!" Fury whispered, his fingers closing around the doorknob and turning it. But, to his dismay, it didn't budge an inch. "It's locked," he groaned. With a sinking heart, he turned to face the soldiers as they rounded the corner. It was a team of six, as Stark had predicted, but strangely, they were led by a woman whose hair was beginning to go gray.

"Peggy! Babe, I've never been so glad to see you in my life," Howard said in a tone that was half relieved and half flirtatious, if that was even possible.

"Call me babe again and I'll punch you in that face that you're so proud of," Peggy replied, but Fury could tell she was glad to see him, too.

"Wait… is this SHIELD?" Fury asked as realization began to dawn.

"Yep," Pym acknowledged as Peggy looked Fury over.

"Tell me the story later," she said. "Right now, we have to move." They began walking at a steady pace as Peggy outlined the situation. "I'm sending you three out to the jet. We've recovered Pym's Ant-Man suit, its already out there. I'm taking part of the team down to level four to bring back the Vesuvius."

"No, you can't do that," Stark cut in earnestly.

"Why not?"

"Because the Vesuvius doesn't hold up well under stress. It might go off," Stark explained. "All the opposition that team's bound to meet with, it's not going to be pretty."

"What does that mean, 'it doesn't hold up well under stress'?" Peggy demanded. "Why not?"

Howard winced. "It means that the explosive material I used isn't an IHE like most bombs. It's sensitive to too much pressure and movement. It's unstable."

"Oh, Howard," Peggy groaned. They reached a doorway blocked with Russian guards. Peggy and the S.H.I.E.L.D. team wasted no time taking them out.

"I'm sorry, Peg," said Howard, "but you know how it is. Once I get an idea in my head, I can't rest until I get it out. And the only way I can do that is by making whatever I've come up with."

"I know, I'm not blaming you for making your inventions," Peggy replied. "I'm upset because you went and got yourself kidnapped and the Vesuvius stolen. Well, I guess we'll have to take the risk that it'll blow up in our faces."

"Wait," Fury interrupted.

Peggy fixed her dark eyes on him. "What is it?"

"Why don't you just use the Vesuvius to blow this place up?" he suggested. "I was deactivating it earlier but I didn't quite finish, so it's still in working order, but the explosion won't be nearly as big."

"You were what?" Stark exploded. "I had failsafes in that thing!"

"I know," Fury replied. "I found them."

Peggy raised her eyebrows in appreciation of the fact that they were all still alive. "Well, Howard?"

"Fine," Howard agreed grudgingly.

"Good." Peggy turned to the five S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. "You lot, take Stark and Pym out to the jet. Me and…"

"Fury," Fury supplied.

"Me and Fury will continue on alone," Peggy finished. The agents looked dubious.

"But, Ma'am," one of them began hesitantly.

"Do as I say, Agent Johnson," Peggy interrupted in exasperation. "I can take care of myself."

The agents and Stark and Pym got one elevator while Peggy and Fury took the other. They rode the elevator up to the fourth sublevel.

"Here," said Peggy, and handed Fury a pistol.

"Thanks." Fury took it gratefully. The elevator stopped and the two agents stepped out quickly. "In here," said Fury, opening the correct door. And froze. Ragan Courtenay stared daggers into him, standing in front of the Vesuvius.

"Don't come any closer," she said, raising her gun. A shot rang out. Courtenay collapsed to the ground with a sharp cry, blood oozing from her thigh.

Fury released his finger from the trigger slowly, working his jaw muscles angrily. Peggy hurried forward to confiscate Courtenay's gun.

Forcing himself to move, Fury went to the Vesuvius and began to ready the self-destruct timer.

"What are you doing?" Courtenay asked, struggling herself into a sitting position.

"Bringing this place down," Fury responded tightly, keeping his focus on his work. Courtenay gasped.

"Don't leave me here," she pleaded. Fury didn't answer. "Please, Nicholas–"

"Don't." Fury rounded on her, seething with quiet anger. "Don't act like we're such great friends, or even allies, because we aren't. Apparently, we never were."

"You can't leave me here!" Courtenay said, her voice going high-pitched in panic. "Think about this, Fury!"

"Why should I?" Fury demanded. "You didn't think when you did _this._ " He gestured to his crudely bandaged eye. Courtenay looked away. "Thank you for teaching me a lesson, one that I'll be forced to remember," said Fury. "Trust is a mistake." He set the timer.

"Ready?" Peggy asked. She'd been watching everything silently. In answer, Fury started for the door.

"Wait!" Courtenay screamed hysterically. "Fury, don't leave me here to die!"

Fury paused at the door. "I'm sorry, Courtenay," he said without looking back. "But I can't trust you." Then he left.

Exactly three minutes later, it was with a heavy heart that he watched the HYDRA compound blow up from the safety of the jet.


	9. EPILOGUE

_-6 months later-_

His heart pounding excitedly, Fury sat down opposite Director Stoner at his desk.

"Thank you for joining me, Mr. Fury," said the director, scanning a file. He looked up and smiled. "Well, it looks like you have shown great leadership skills and also attention to directions in SHIELD's training program, and cleared all the tests with room to spare. You're hardworking and intelligent, in short, you show lots of promise. Congratulations, Nicholas."

"Actually," said Fury, extending a hand. "I go by Nick."

Director Stoner took Fury's hand and pumped it professionally. "Welcome to SHIELD, Agent Nick Fury."


End file.
